


Logical Fallacies

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Jealous Steve, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought you were dating Clint,” Steve said, and Tony dropped the screwdriver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Logical Fallacies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valmasy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valmasy/gifts).



> Very late happy birthday!
> 
> This is pure fluff, set somewhere in the happy future.
> 
> Also a fill for the "woe is me" square on my bingo card.

The morning newspaper had a picture of Tony and Clint on the front page. They were both in elegant suits—even thought Clint’s _was_ purple—and Clint had his arm thrown over Tony’s shoulders, Tony leaning into him. They were both grinning. 

Steve wasn’t sure when he’d seen Tony that relaxed for the last time. He should be happy, but something painful settled in the pit of his stomach at the way Clint’s fingers curled around Tony’s arm.

Steve had never said anything, so if he lost his chance now, it was his own damn fault.

***

“You seem angry,” Carol said. Steve didn’t stop punching the bag. “Up to hitting someone who might hit back?” she asked.

Steve stepped away, looked at her. “I’m not angry,” he lied.

And he wasn’t. He _was_ glad that Tony was happy. But he still had too much energy he needed to spent, and too many regrets fuelling it—

He really had no right to act like that. He needed to get his shit together before _Tony_ saw him. Tony could never know.

“Sure you’re not.” She walked to the mat. “Any reason you crumpled the newspaper beyond recognition? Someone else might’ve wanted to read it too, you know.”

Steve almost asked how she knew it was him, but there was no point. They both got up first. He stilled the punching bag with his head, took a few deep breaths, and followed her to the mat.

“Sorry,” he said.

She shrugged. “You should tell him, you know.”

 _No he shouldn’t_.

He felt a bit better after she knocked him on his ass three times in a row.

***

Tony stumbled into the kitchen at dinner time, looking barely conscious, and made a beeline for the coffee maker.

Steve stood in his path, stopped him with a hand to his chest. “How long have you been awake?”

“I have projects,” Tony muttered, but he didn’t try to push Steve away. His eyes were bloodshot. 

“They won’t run away,” Steve told him firmly. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

Clint walked in the kitchen next, and Steve froze, rewound what he just said. “Uh—sorry—” He stepped back.

Tony and Clint both stared at him.

“You fine, man?” Clint asked.

Steve wasn’t sure what to say.

“Oh, Clint,” Tony said, “come by the workshop later, I have the new designs for you.”

 _Is that how you call it these days_ , Steve thought, and he was ashamed of himself He should be better than that.

“Thanks,” Clint said. He tilted his head. “Although not today, Stark. Steve’s right, you need bed.”

“I’ll just leave you two,” Steve blurted out, and all but ran away.

***

Someone was laughing in the living room. Steve planned to paint a bit, but he decided to check what was going on. He’d gladly join in on a movie night.

Tony was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, moving his hands in rapid motions in front of him. Clint was on the other end, nodding occasionally. 

Tony was in his shirtsleeves, his top buttons open, and Steve looked at the long line of his throat. It took him a moment to understand Tony was signing. 

He knew the basics, of course, all of them had learnt it—but now it felt that if he tried to understand, he’d be eavesdropping.

He left quietly before either of them could notice him.

Tony clearly was happy. Steve was being pathetic.

***

“Oh, Steve!” Jan’s voice stopped him in the doorway. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” he said. “Do you need anything?”

“Yeah.” She reached into her handbag and after some feeling around, took out a pendrive. “Can you get it to Tony? It’s some designs, but I’m already late for a meeting about fabrics—are you all right?”

Steve wasn’t sure what his face looked like at the moment. He forced himself to nod. “Sure thing, Jan.”

Her look was piercing. “ _Tell him_ ,” she said.

“What’s the point?” he asked quietly. “Go, don’t be late, I’ll give it to him.”

She was clearly torn. 

“I’m fine, Jan, _go_.”

“We’ll go back to that later,” she promised, and was out.

Steve sighed. He went to the elevator, typed in the code for Tony’s workshop. A few seconds later, the elevator stopped downstairs, and Steve went out. He punched in another code—he understood the need for security, but sometimes it just seemed ridiculous—and stopped half-step in.

Clint was there, and Tony was leaning over him, his hand cradling Clint’s cheek.

The world hated him, Steve decided.

He knocked on the door to get their attention. They didn’t even move away, Clint just grinned at him, and Tony gave him the smile Steve used to believe was just for him.

“Hi,” he said. “Everything fine? You haven’t come by in a few days.”

He didn’t think Tony noticed that. “Yeah, sorry,” he said. “Uh, Jan sent me—”

“Oh, she finished? Great. Give it here.”

Tony turned from Clint, took the pendrive from Steve. “Are you sure you’re fine?” he asked quietly. “You look . . .”

“I’m peachy,” Steve told him. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

“Steve?”

He didn’t stop.

***

When Steve got to the kitchen in the morning, Clint was already there. 

“This is getting ridiculous,” he said as a hello.

Steve gave him a questioning look before he turned to the fridge. Everything was fine, he told himself.

“Look, I got up at 5 to catch you before everyone else was awake,” Clint said. “I’m not dating Stark.”

Steve froze.

“I’ve no idea what got into you,” Clint continued, “but if he starts talking about how you suddenly hate him one more time when he fixes my aids—look, Steve, everyone but Tony seems to know you love him; how about you fucking tell him already?”

Steve slowly, very slowly, turned to face him. “But you—”

“I?” Clint asked.

“You two—I saw the picture in the newspaper,” Steve said. He wouldn’t let himself hope. He wasn’t sure why Clint was doing it, but—everything was obvious, really. “And then you two were signing, and he’s always next to you, and—”

He stopped, because Clint was laughing. “Oh my god,” he managed to say, “you _really_ believed that, huh.”

“Clint.” That wasn’t funny. It was very important.

“The newspaper? It was a Stark Foundation gala for the hard of hearing. You can guess why Tony took me with him.”

Steve nodded.

“You saw us signing, right? Aside from the fact that, you know, I can talk with my friends without those,” he pointed at his hearing aids, “he wants to teach the new Avenger babies ASL, and we were practising.”

Steve was starting to feel really, really stupid.

“And in the lab, yesterday? I needed new aids, he was fitting them.”

Something uncoiled from around Steve’s heart.

“I’m an idiot,” he said.

“You are,” Clint confirmed gleefully. “But you’re an idiot Tony really, really likes, so go to him. He’s probably still up worried about you avoiding him.”

Steve felt like the worst man on the Earth.

“ _Thank you_ ,” he said, and he dashed for the elevator.

***

Tony was in fact still awake, but he lacked the manic energy which came from him pulling a few all-nighters in a row, so Steve decided it was okay to talk to him now.

“I thought you were dating Clint,” he said, and Tony dropped the screwdriver he was holding.

“Excuse me?” he said.

“I saw your picture in the newspaper, and then—” And then he just interpreted everything he saw so it’d fit the scenario he imagined, and he arrived at the wrong conclusion. And in the proceedings, he apparently upset Tony. “I’m sorry.”

Tony was looking at him with a guarded expression. “Okay,” he said. “And you’re telling me this, because . . .?”

Steve took a deep breath. “I thought you were dating him,” he repeated, “and suddenly I understood I never told you how I felt, and I was afraid it’d be too late—but it’s not, and—” He felt dizzy, but Tony wasn’t throwing him out yet, and all of his friends told him to tell Tony the truth, and Tony was his best friend and deserved to hear it and decide if he ever wanted to see Steve again. “I love you, Tony,” he said.

Something like hope showed up on Tony’s face before he plastered on his best fake smile. It hurt to see it. “Like a friend, you mean.”

“No,” Steve said, his mouth dry. “Not like a friend.”

Tony stood up, took a few steps in Steve’s direction. “Tell me this is what it sounds like,” he said.

“I want to date you, To—” Steve started saying, but he couldn’t even finish Tony’s name—because suddenly Tony was in his arms, kissing him, and Steve had no choice but to kiss back. Tony’s lips were dry, his beard was tickling, and it was still the best kiss Steve had remembered.

“ _Yes_ ,” Tony said against his mouth. “I can’t believe—you know what, maybe I’m glad, if that made you come here— _yes, Steve, I love you too_ ,” he said, intense, and Steve kissed him again.

He owed Carol, Jan and Clint big time. He didn’t mind.

Tony was warm in his arms, and Steve had never been happier.


End file.
